


The Pillars Of The Earth

by solitariusvirtus



Series: The Stag, the She-Wolf and the Dragon [1]
Category: A Song of Ice and Fire - George R. R. Martin
Genre: Alternate Universe - Canon Divergence, F/M, Falling In Love, Second Chances, Slow Romance, Widowed, pre-asoiaf
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2016-03-31
Updated: 2016-03-31
Packaged: 2018-05-30 08:11:00
Rating: Mature
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 2,007
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/6415783
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/solitariusvirtus/pseuds/solitariusvirtus
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>The fury of the stag is quenched in salty sea-waves, leaving behind the ambition of an old and proud line. Made widow by the untimely and unwelcome demise of her lord husband at the hand of those who have long been a scourge at their shores, Lyanna, Lady of Storm's End, is determined to ensure for her children remain safe and have the very best the realm can offer. And in her efforts she is not alone.</p><p>To further her own cause, she leaves the comfort of her home for the royal court, never even dreaming as to the trials and tribulations awaiting. Attaching herself at the side of the Crown Prince's wife, the she-wolf soon finds herself part of a greater plot, one that threatens both her position and her heart.    </p><p>Or, all the secrets that Lyanna would best like to forget come to haunt her with a vengeance.</p>
            </blockquote>





	The Pillars Of The Earth

Lyanna kissed the top of her daughter’s soft forehead and gazed expectantly at her lord husband. Stannis looked down upon the two of them, holding their son with steady hands as the child craned his neck to get a better look at his sister. “Come closer, my lord. She does not yet bite.” Not with those ginger gums of hers, Lyanna thought, looking from her lord husband to her newborn.

Their son was deposited upon the bed, crawling over the thick furs until he’d reached her side. His curious gaze searched the babe’s face, but Stannis was on her other side, taking the child up in his own arms. “Shireen.”

That was all he said to her, handing the daughter back after he’d made sure she was in possession of all four limbs, five fingers attached to each hand and foot.

The mother beamed proudly up at the father. After years of miscarriages and stillbirths, she had finally carried to term and gave him a second child. She was still young, came the thought, and might well produce another soon. “Shireen,” she tested the name herself, enjoying the way it rolled off of her tongue. “Shireen is a good name for a lovely girl.”

“She’s red,” Jon pointed out helpfully, poking a finger against Shireen’s cheeks gently. “Why is she red?”

“She’ll grow out of it,” Lyanna assured her son, leaning over to press a kiss to his own forehead. “You were like so yourself when you a babe.” Shireen mewled softly, as if to agree. Stannis still kept his distance from the three of them, the awkward gap not filled even with words. Turning her head towards him, Lyanna gave a soft nod. “Was he not, my lord?”

At being forcefully included in their interaction, Stannis grumbled his reply, something that sounded like agreement. Taking that for his contribution, the woman returned her attention to the oldest child. “And look at you now, as white as snow.” She smiled, giving his another kiss which the boy accepted without much fuss.

“Can I hold her?” He pointed towards Shireen whose eyes were still scrunched shut. She had cried a bit when they’d washed her, but as soon as she’d been fed, the whimpers had stopped. Sounds came from time to time, but she seemed content enough. Naturally, her brother would be curious.

“Another time,” the proud father cut in, picking Jon up off of the bed. “Your lady mother and your sister ought to be resting. Let us leave them to their sleep.” Lyanna would have protested, but Stannis was moving unusually quick. She could get little in edgewise, so she allowed her back to rest against the mound of pillows that had been placed behind her and rocked Shireen in her arms.

Seven years of marriage and it still felt as if they were strangers at times. How sad.

But she did not allow herself to linger upon the thought. Eyes turned to the babe. “You are the prettiest girl I’ve ever seen. Do you know that?” she questioned softly, wondering if the child could at least understand the sentiment. “I have been waiting for you, I have. Kept me waiting a good long while.”

Jon had been an easy matter, both in the quickness with which she took seed and the delivery. His sister, on the other hand, had kept her abed for the last three months and had taken three full days to reach her arms. Sometimes she wondered at the humour of the gods. The heir, most important to any man, had been a summer breeze, but her own little joy had taken so much effort.

She remembered it all as if it were yesterday. What an adventure it had been for her to visit her brother Ned in the Vale of Arryn. She had been so excited, not only to see her sibling, but her betrothed as well. Father had just arranged the match, but Ned had been writing him about Robert for years at that point. And she, girl that she was, had goggled behind her hand and swore she’d wed him if he won against her in a race.

And raced they had, like to mad people, trying to outrun the other. Of course Robert had won and Lyanna had been obliged to pay his tithe. A tendril of hair he’d taken from her, cutting it off with a hunting knife. He’d given her a rose in return, one which she caught in her hair for him at supper.

It had looked a match made with the blessing of the Seven. The agreement had been that when Lyanna reached her fifteenth nameday, she would be sent to Storm’s End and become Robert’s bride. Fate had had a different plan. Instead of giving her Robert, her fifteenth nameday had brought news that her well-loved betrothed had met his end upon the rocky shores of his father’s keep, losing his life to some silly dare.

She could hardly believe it when they’d told her. But by then Robert’s body had been cold and she was left with only a rose pressed between the pages of a tome to remember him by. Her father had changed his plans only slightly. Instead of Robert, she was to have the younger brother, Stannis.

Stannis she’d not seen, but knew that even if he happened to have three heads and a devil’s tail, it would not make much of a difference. So when father had told her she was still to go to Storm’s End, Lyanna had dried her tears and packed her coffers. And that had been it for the daughter of Winterfell.

She met her husband when his father was yet lord of the keep. Even after seven years, she could still recall the disappointment that first sight had produced. He was little like Robert, save for his colouring. Stannis had been too thin, too serious and too shy, looking at her as if she’d landed from the moon.

Shaking her head, Lyanna dismissed the memories, looking towards the creaking door. Tansy poked her head in. “Can I bring you anything, m’lady?” she asked, her thick voice already so familiar.

Considering the question, Lyanna decided that she would have aught to eat. Might be a bit of thin porridge or some leek soup. “Aught easy on the stomach, Tansy.” Strange how birthing children always seemed to put her in the mood for food. Shireen gurgled, lips spreading apart. “Might ne you’ll have something as well?”

The only answer her daughter gave was to suckle on the beast she offered, drawing nourishment in long gulps. Pleased to see her so well disposed, the she-wolf did not give her up immediately when Tansy returned with the food. Instead, she allowed Shireen to finish her meal before handing her to the servant woman. “I want the wetnurse to remain with her throughout the night. I’ve fed her, so I expect that for a few hours there shall be no fuss. Alas, I want her under constant careful watch.”

Having little reason to worry, Lyanna turned her attention to the food. She broke the bread apart between her fingers and placed the chunky pieces in the bowl, allowing them to sop up the liquid. She ate slowly, her mind wandering every now and again to days past, to Robert and Stannis and to other corners she visited seldom during the light of day. A son and a daughter. She wondered if she might be able to give him a second son.

If he should exert himself and come to her bed, she supposed that twice or so during a turn, it should do the trick. She would speak to him of it. The decision settled upon her mind. She would do it as soon as she regained her strength.

She’d regretted wedding him, Lyanna recalled as the soup and soft bread slid down her throat. The first moon turns had been the most difficult, for she still had Robert on her mind and Stannis’ own reticence to be in her presence had been off-putting. And then they’d found out about her carrying and had fallen into an unspoken accord. It was an easy thing. He was calm, collected and never bothered her by asking more than she gave. In turn Lyanna took care to have everything prepared to his liking, making mental notes on the things he found favourable and those he did not.

The routine had quenched her thirst for what could have beens in the end. After all, she had a good-mother to help, a keep to look after, a pleasing enough husband and a younger brother, a child whom to dote upon. In a way, before Jon was born, Renly had been her son. Not long after she wedded Stannis, his lord father had died in his sleep. The maester had blamed the grief of losing his oldest child. Lady Cassana fell into a sort of sullen silence from which not even her son could break her; thus it fell to Lyanna to take on her duties.

That was the sort of life she had made for herself and by the gods it was better than she had imagined it would be. All of it was so much better than she had feared in her young mind, when first she’d clapped eyes upon her husband, it would be. There was naught of the grim disgust to be had, nor anything of consuming passion. But that’s he’d known only fleetingly, and should have no reason to miss it. Lyanna finished her meal and pushed the tray onto a small table at the side of her bed, accidentally knocking over a tiny casket.

On the carpeted ground poured out gold and silver coins along with a signet ring and an even smaller ring that she had never worn. With a sound of frustration she climbed out of bed and knelt by the pile. The contents of it were placed back within until she’d reached the second ring.

Holding it up in the firelight, Lyanna smiled at the glinting rubies. She placed it back within and covered the casket with its lid. “There, now you shan’t lie about on the ground.” She gave little thought to it, save to wonder why she had kept it, as she stood to her feet and placed the container back upon the smooth surface of the table.

The door opened to let in Tansy once more. She fretted when she saw Lyanna out of bed and took on the motherly duty of sending her beneath the sheets. “M’lord would have me head, m’lady, if you should catch a chill and expire.”

“He is not so cruel, Tansy,” Lyanna managed from beneath the mound of furs. “A few strikes of the whip, might be.” She smiled as she said it, imagining that her death would not extract from her lord husband more than a raised eyebrow and an inquiry over the price of good sturdy wood. A fitting response. “Be on your way then. If I do not sleep I fear I shall truly die.”

“M’lady!” exclaimed the servant woman, taking the tray in her arms. “Sleep then; I shan’t come within to be a bother.” That response set Lyanna off, she giggled and hid her face from sight, turning on her side gingerly. “Seven be good, but m’lady does so enjoy turning me inside out.”

“Only because you make it so easy,” Lyanna answered, humour still lingering in her voice. “Have no fear, good woman.” But Tansy had long since grown used to the tart tongue of her mistress, making a sound in the back of her throat by way of reply.

Lyanna rested her head against one of the pillows, pushing the others away. She closed her eyes and inhaled the soft scent of roses, feeling the fatigue take over inch by inch. It made no matter, after a few hours of rest she would not feel anything of the ache.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> If you know you're not a fan of the following:
> 
> \- incest
> 
> \- adultery
> 
> \- murder
> 
> \- bastards 
> 
> \- gross dishonesty
> 
> \- lack of morality
> 
> then this story is likely not one you'll enjoy. So please, keep that in mind if you do choose to go on with reading this.


End file.
